


Musical Motion

by iwazilla



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: 1960's TV verse, Angst, Brothers, Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Virgil Week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7786240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwazilla/pseuds/iwazilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic collection for Virgil Week 2016! Each chapter is a stand-alone fic, set to the following themes: </p><p>Day One: Skies<br/>Day Two: Stars<br/>Day Three: Music<br/>Day Four: Ocean<br/>Day Five: Heroes<br/>Day Six: Brothers<br/>Day Seven: Change</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flight

**Author's Note:**

> I sincerely hope that you enjoy reading these as much as I enjoyed writing them. Thunderbirds is an old and much loved fandom of mine, having grown up with it, and its fantastic to finally be able to contribute with fan content of my own!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day One: Skies.  
> Virgil flies Thunderbird Two for the first time following a crash. Scott worries, because of course he does - what else are big brothers for? Set following the events of Terror in New York City.

Virgil marvelled at his ‘bird, leaning against the railings as he looked over the fresh coat of paint Brains and Tin-Tin had worked tirelessly to replace.

“She’s looking good huh?”

Scott mimicked Virgil’s actions, forearms resting against the rails as he glanced over Thunderbird 2 next to his little brother.

“She sure is,” Virgil replied, almost dreamily. “I can’t wait to test out some of the new systems Brains put in there.”

Scott looked up in alarm, narrowing his eyes at Virgil. “That won’t be for a while though, will it?”

Virgil, looking somewhat amused, stood up straight and made a show of stretching his arms out.

“Well,” he began, smirking at his oldest brother. “Brains _did_ tell me last weekend that I should leave it another few days. But I asked dad, and they both gave me an all clear last night. Soooooo….”

“Absolutely not.” Scott leant up from the rails, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. “Virg it hasn’t been nearly long enough—”

“It’s been three weeks actually,” Virgil replied in a singsong voice, clearly having fun.

“Like I said, not _nearly_ long enough! The crash knocked you on your ass for a week Virg – you had a concussion, not to mention you were covered in bruises and grazes. You’re not nearly fit enough to handle 2 on your own.”

“You think I’d go on my own? Come on Scott, you know me better than that. I’ve already asked Gordon to come with me.”

“ _Gordon?!”_

Virgil laughed, making his way back through the silo. “If you’ve got a problem with that, you can take it up with dad.”

Scott scowled. Pulling the dad card was always a low blow.

\---

“It’s a good day for it, don’t you think Virg?”

“I sure do Gordon! Nice and bright.”

“Better take your sunglasses huh, don’t want to crash because the sun’s in your eyes!”

“Will you two knock it off?”

Gordon gasped in mock hurt, covering his heart with his hands.

“Scott I’m simply making sure our dear brother takes extra care of himself. I bet _you_ wouldn’t have reminded him to take his glasses!”

Virgil shook with silent laughter at the end of the table – the darkening expression on Scott’s face only made it worse, Gordon smirking across the table from him as he poured another glass of orange juice. He had known the redhead would do everything in his power to wind up their oldest brother on the day of 2's test flight.

“Poor dear Scott, you’re just upset because you’re not the chosen one."

“No, you’re just a shitbag,” Scott shot back.

That did it – Virgil howled with laughter, unable to contain himself.

“Scott, no swearing at the table.” Jeff walked into the room, newspaper in hand, sitting at the head of the table.

“Yeah Scott, no swearing at the table!”

“Gordon, you be quiet and eat your breakfast. And Virgil.” Jeff glanced across the table to his middle son, watching as he wiped away tears of laughter. “Contain yourself. Honestly, you boys will be the death of me.”

“That’s the best you could ask for really, considering all the other options in this line of work,” Gordon replied, earning himself a smack to the head with the newspaper. Scott snorted into his juice.

“I trust the two of you are set?” Jeff asked, opening his newspaper and peering over the top to look at Virgil and Gordon.  

“Of course father,” Virgil replied, reaching for his toast.

“When are we ever not ready?” Gordon asked. Jeff raised an eyebrow at him before turning full attention to his paper.

“As I’m scheduled for a meeting this afternoon, Scott will be monitoring the pair of you.”

“Scott?!” Gordon spluttered. Scott smirked at the younger man, leaning back into his chair with his coffee mug in hand.

“Yes son, Scott. Is there a problem with that?”

“Dad,” Gordon started, giving his father a serious look. “The last thing Virgil needs is a mother hen squawking on comms.”

“I would have thought the last thing he needed was a fish splashing around his cockpit, actually,” Scott fired back. Gordon opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by his father.

“That’s enough, both of you. I don’t want to hear any of this foolishness later on – you are to treat this seriously, as you would a rescue. Understood?”

“Understood,” all three of them replied in unison, Gordon glaring at Scott in annoyance. The eldest simply smirked back triumphantly. Virgil shook his head. Standing from the table he brushed himself off.

“Well I’ll be with Brains if you need me. He wants to run through some of the new equipment again before we take off.”

“I’ll come with you!” Gordon replied, scrambling out of his seat to follow Virgil. Scott sighed, shaking his head as his brothers left the kitchen.

“I don’t know why we call Gords and Al the gruesome twosome. Those two cause far more trouble.”

 Jeff laughed, smiling at his eldest. “Only when you’re the focus of their attention son.”

\---

“This is Thunderbird 2, preparing for launch.”

“F.A.B.” Scott sat by the window of the control room, watching as palm trees fell to each side of the runway below to allow Thunderbird 2 room to travel. Scott was continuously astounded by 2, how such a colossal piece of machinery could glide along the runway with such grace before taking off into the air. He knew plenty about aircraft – that was part of the trade of being a pilot really – but even so, he often found himself wondering how that bird managed to keep itself in flight.

As 2 reached the end of the runway, launch pad rising to give it the appropriate angle for take-off, Scott called into the radio.

“You ready Virg?”

“He was born ready!” Gordon called in the background, causing Virgil to sigh. Scott could visualise the expression on his brother’s face, mingled exasperation and amusement as he shook his head.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

“Alright,” Scott murmured, ignoring the anxious feeling in his gut. After all, the last time Virgil had been in Thunderbird 2 was when it was in flames on the runway – who wouldn’t feel nervous after an incident like that? “Clear for take-off.”

The noise of the thrusters firing was thunderous, smoke collecting quickly behind 2 as it slowly rose into the air from the launch pad. Scott watched, heart thundering in his chest, as Virgil smoothly piloted 2 higher and further from the island. His hands itched as he forcibly restrained himself from calling in, knowing it was too soon.

As Thunderbird 2 flew out of sight, becoming nothing more than a green speck in the sky, Scott couldn’t help himself.

“Virgil? Report in.”

“I’m fine Scott,” Virgil replied. “Everything’s running smoothly. Relax.”

“And the new systems? Everything’s working okay?”

“Well we won’t know about some of them until we get further out.”

“Further? How far are you going?”

“Not far enough,” Virgil replied through gritted teeth, clearly irritated with the persistent questions. Gordon sniggered in the background.

“Scott, listen – everything will be fine. If you’re that nervous then get Tin-Tin to make you some of that tea she always has to calm down.”

Well, that wasn’t _such_ a bad idea – not that Scott was ready to admit to his nerves, but Tin-Tin was the clear teamaster of the house. A mug of her tea was like a warm hug.  

“Hmm. I’m heading to the labs and then I’ll be back. Five minutes. You need anything, you call me.”

“Yes dad!” Gordon called in a singsong voice. Scott rolled his eyes. All the same he made his way out of the control room with one last glance at the sky, radio in hand.  


	2. Not Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Two: Stars.  
> Virgil and John deal with the fallout of a tough rescue. 
> 
> This is a collaboration with my dearest Lu, the John to my Virgil <3, who drew this heartbreaking and amazing art (which you can find on lupotterdraws.tumblr.com).

Virgil leant his head back against the glass separating his room from his balcony. A cool breeze lifted the hair from his brow and he closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sounds of the island; gentle waves lapping against the shore, Kyrano humming pleasantly somewhere beneath him as he tended to his much loved garden. Distantly he heard a loud splash followed by the rapid movement of water – that would be Gordon, dealing with the fallout of a hard rescue the way he always did.

 _The rescue_.

Virgil frowned, opening his eyes and shifting uncomfortably. He stretched his legs out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other and gazed towards the sky, deep oranges and reds that lifted into light pinks and purples as the sun set. This island was so tranquil – normally it was so easy for him to get lost in its sights and sounds, often being chastised by Jeff for glancing out the window towards the sparkling blue sea instead of listening to new Thunderbird upgrade details. It was so easy for Virgil to get lost in his own mind; half the reason he was so talented in the arts he supposed, using music and paint to express himself more than he ever could with words.

But tonight, it seemed nothing could take Virgil away from his thoughts. The colours of the sky inspired nothing but violent flashbacks to the streams of crimson running along the ground, the screams and desperate cries for help. The hums beneath him, peaceful and innocent, brought the image of a sobbing mother, cradling a broken child in her arms as she sang to him, almost as if she was singing him to sleep.

He stood quickly, squeezing his eyes shut against the images running through his mind and reached for the balcony railing, holding it so tightly his knuckles turned white. Panic bubbled inside of him as he began to breathe heavily, desperately trying to stave it off.

_Stop it. Stop. There was nothing we could have done. We did everything we could. Calm down._

A harsh buzzing from his room brought Virgil back into reality. He turned, glancing around his room for the source of the noise only to find his tablet vibrating so hard on the desk it was close to falling off.

He dashed over to it, quickly picking it up to find an incoming call from John that he accepted just before the cut-off point. John watched in amusement on-screen as Virgil threw himself onto the bed, scrambling to find himself a decent seated position amongst various blankets and clothes. Grandma would kill him if she could see the state of the place.

“Catch you off guard little bro?”

“Something like that,” Virgil murmured in response, shifting the pillows on his bed so that they cushioned his back. He sat with the tablet propped on his knees, one hand behind his head.

“So what’s up?”

“Just checking up on you,” John replied, placing his book to one side as he got comfortable in his chair. “It’s been pretty quiet since… well. Since everyone came home.”

“I… yeah.” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, glancing off towards the balcony door as he heard another distant splash from the pool. “Everyone’s just sorta… doing their own thing I guess. Sorry I didn’t get in touch earlier.”

John waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t be. I know debrief is hard enough, let alone clean up.”

“Yeah. I don’t think I’ve ever been so dusty in my life.”

The pair sat in silence for a moment, knowing what needed to be said but both unsure how to go about it. John – always the moral support – started first, clearing his throat and looking knowingly at Virgil through the screen.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Virgil exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I probably should, I guess. But,” he paused, looking off to one side. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do, really.”

John nodded in understanding. “Probably one of the toughest we’ve handled to be honest.”

“No kidding,” Virgil replied. Heavy footsteps passed his door, very likely Scott on his way to the gym. Virgil knew that a few rooms down Alan was with Tin-Tin, the pair disappearing quickly after debrief. It was interesting, he thought, the different methods they used to cope.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk. Maybe we can just sit together for a while?”

“Yeah.” Virgil smiled at John, standing from the bed. “That’d be great actually.” He moved to the desk, propping the tablet up against the wall and reaching into the top drawer for his sketchbook and some pencils. John smiled back, re-opening his book as Virgil settled down cross-legged on the chair, pencil in hand.

Virgil had no idea how long they sat there, doing their own thing while still on call with each other. All he knew is that as his tablet beeped to let him know it was running low on battery, the sun had fully set. Artificial light from the small lanterns Tin-Tin had kindly placed along each Tracy boy’s balcony poured into the room, illuminating it in rainbow colours; Virgil, ever the creative one, had quickly nabbed the coloured ones out of the pack Tin-Tin had brought back with her from the mainland a few weeks ago.

“Isn’t it hard for you to see Virg? Turn the main light on.”

“Nah,” Virgil replied, hunting around the drawer for his charger. “I prefer it this way.”

“You’ll strain your eyes if you keep drawing without more light.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, triumphantly pulling a dark lead from the drawer. Even when John was so many miles away in deep space, big brother mode never stopped.

“Fine, I’ll just stop drawing then.” Having plugged the lead into his tablet and switched on the power at the wall, Virgil leant back in his chair, satisfied. “What have you been reading all this time?”

“Ah well,” John began, glancing down at the book. “It’s a book about mythology. Japanese mythology, to be precise.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. John was always one to read books that made his head spin but even so, this was somewhat different from what he had expected. Usually they were about the facts of deep space or human history; huge books with thick leather covers, riddled with pictures to illustrate each particular finding. Mythology wasn’t _so_ different to some of the things John occasionally read, but it came as a surprise to Virgil all the same.

“Yeah? What’s so good about that then?”

“It’s just fascinating I suppose.” John ran a hand across one of the pages, touch lingering as he reached its end. “I was particularly interested in reading about some of the gods. Did you know that some people believe that Shinigami, the gods of death, are the ones who decide the moment you die?”

Virgil looked closely at John, somewhat alarmed at the sudden turn in conversation.

“I was unaware,” he began, studying his older brother carefully. The way he now clutched the book, knuckles slowly turning white, tired eyes and pale face looking intently at some spot above Virgil, as if desperately avoiding looking at him directly.

"John?"

“John, are you alr—”

“You know,” John interrupted, causing Virgil’s eyes to widen in surprise. “Tadashi wondered why they picked such a violent death for him. “They pick the moment” he told me “but surely they are aware of the circumstances too.””

“John listen—”

“What kind of hateful god chooses to make a 12 year old die in such pain? Alone, talking to someone who was so – so unhelpful, so far away, who had nothing to offer him but empty words and promises?”

“John, listen to me - you did what you could.”

“It wasn’t enough!”

Hastily John reached for the screen, turning it off. Virgil sat up in alarm.

“John?! John!!!”

The only indication that John was still online were the sounds of choked sobs behind the black screen. Virgil's heart ached for his brother, wanting so desperately to be able to reach out and pull the older man into his arms right now.

“Listen, Johnny, please listen to me.” Virgil sat closer to the tablet, as if somehow it made him physically closer to his brother. “You did the best you could. You did the best of all of us – you gave that boy hope. You kept him calm. John you were fantastic. There’s nothing more you could have done.”

There was no response for a few moments, the silence only broken by sniffles and shaky breaths. Virgil waited patiently, giving John the space he needed. When he had finally calmed down Virgil heard a quiet thump, most likely the book hitting the floor, before John shuffled closer in his seat.

“I just wish we could have gotten there in time.”

“So do I,” Virgil replied. “I always do. I know you do too. But John – this is how it always is. We knew it was going to be like this from day one. We lost lives today, but we saved so many more.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” John said quietly. Virgil had to agree – the sound of that boy’s mother broken-hearted sobbing would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

“Especially when you’re stuck here in this tin can,” John added. “You know I can’t – I can’t be useful. _Really_ useful. I want to be down there so much, doing something. _Anything_. And when it ends I can’t swim, or smash keys on a piano or lift weights until I pass out. I can’t run anywhere. There’s nowhere to go.”

Virgil took a moment to gather the appropriate words for a response but before he could say anything, John went on;

“You know, it’s after calls like this that not even the stars can help me.”

Virgil had no idea what to say to that, knowing the feeling all too well. He sighed, wishing more than anything he could be with his brother right now.

“I know,” was all he could manage, trying desperately to think of something more helpful. “Listen, maybe we could switch your shift for a while, get Brains up there. He’s itching to get his hands on some of the circuitry to upgrade it.”

John contemplated the idea for a moment. “I dunno Virg. I don’t want to put anyone through extra hassle.”

“It’s not,” Virgil replied quickly. “It’s no big deal. I just think you should be with us right now, is all.”

“You think so huh?” John sighed softly, shifting in his chair. “I don’t want to put anyone out.”

“John, I’ll take you to Brains and ask right now, you’ll hear for yourself. _It’s fine._ Just – please come home, so we can work through this together. I don’t want you to do it alone.”

The tablet screen suddenly brightened before settling into an image of John, elbows propped up on the surface in front of him, hands on both sides of his head. Still, he smiled softly at his younger brother.

“Thanks Virg.”

Virgil smiled back. “Get packed. I’ll go find dad.”

“W-what? Now?!”

“You heard me Johnny boy!” Virgil stood from his chair, stretching and grabbing the tablet in one hand. “You better do it fast or I’m telling Scott – and I’m sure the last thing you want right now is a mother hen breaking the sound barrier to get to you.”

That had them both laughing, John shaking his head in mock exasperation.

“Alright, alright. Please spare me from Scott. I’m going now.” He stood, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, and Virg?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks.”


	3. Perfect Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Three: Music.   
> Virgil expresses his emotions the only way he knows how - through his piano. Warning for minor character death.

When Lucille died, Virgil’s reaction was the last thing Jeff had expected.

Quite simply – there hadn’t _been_ a reaction. He was quieter, more withdrawn, but there had been no tears, not the broken hearted wailing he’d had from his youngest. Jeff often waited silently in the corridor in the nights following; partly out of being unsure what to do with himself but mostly knowing that his eldest ones would reserve their tears for bedtime. He couldn’t allow that – he couldn’t allow them to grieve alone. Not at this age.

But for Virgil, there was nothing. A few sniffles, coughs during the night, but nothing else. Nothing to physically indicate the pain Jeff knew he was going through, as much as the rest of them were.

It frightened him. Jeff had been ready for a reaction. He didn’t know how to deal with nothing.

Soon enough the day of the funeral came and still, there was nothing. As his mother walked away with the two youngest in each hand, John and Scott arm in arm behind her, Jeff approached his middle son, crouching in the gravel beside him. He placed a gentle hand on Virgil’s shoulder, studying his son’s face as the boy gazed blankly into the grave, piles of dirt on each side waiting to be thrown haphazardly across the polished black box deep in the ground.

“Virgil.” Gently steering his son to look at him, Jeff cupped his son’s cheek. “Alright son?”

Virgil simply nodded but there was no emotion. He reached for his father’s hand, moving it from his face and holding it in a tight grip. Jeff gave him a small smile, before standing up and glancing at the grave of his wife one more time.

Hand in hand, the pair walked away, Virgil’s grip tightening with every step.

\---

It wasn’t until much later in the day that Jeff had a moment’s peace to himself.

He sat with a groan, sore and tired. All five boys were tucked into bed, Alan and Gordon having conked out almost as soon as their heads hit the pillow. Pouring himself a generous amount of whiskey Jeff leant back into his chair with a sigh, rubbing a hand across his face. The weight of his emotions bore down on his shoulders, desperate for release. But he didn’t feel ready – not yet.

As he took a sip of whisky from the glass, he heard faint music. Sitting for a moment with the glass poised in mid-air, Jeff strained his ears to pinpoint the source of the noise. It wasn’t uncommon for him to imagine soft piano notes after his wife’s passing, as much as he still felt her presence besides him when he went to bed at night. This time, he realised after a few moments, it wasn’t imaginary at all.

Someone was playing the piano.

Reluctantly, Jeff put his glass on his desk and made his way out of his office, music growing louder with each step as he walked to what his wife had lovingly called “the creative room” – piano in one corner, walls patterned with intricately painted constellations, shelves of books and pots of pencils lining one of the walls.

The door was ajar, but only slightly. Jeff pushed it open slightly more and took a sharp intake of breath as he saw Virgil at the piano – of course it was Virgil. Who else could it have been? He’d been Lucy’s protégé from day one, sitting next to her for hours on that stool and watching the way her fingers glided smoothly over the keys, committing the notes to memory.

Jeff watched subtly from the door, Virgil so intensely focused on his work that he hadn’t noticed his father’s arrival. His fingers ran along the keys with ease, hitting each note in perfect time. Dimly, Jeff registered the tune; it was something Lucy had been teaching Virgil for weeks now, something he’d been struggling to perfect.

Yet now, there was nothing about this that wasn’t perfect. The way Virgil was able to keep up with the tempo of the song, from quick repetition to slow, prolonged notes. He moved fluidly, not missing a single key. He was strong, he was graceful and every note held such emotion, played out plain as day on his face as his expression shifted from sheer determination to joy to pain – such pain that Jeff felt his heart break as he watched his son begin to crumble, powering through the song as tears streamed down his face.

Jeff felt tears of his own gently sliding down his cheeks, reminded so vividly of his late wife sitting behind those keys, the way her music floated through the house day by day, light and peaceful.

Abruptly, not quite at the end, the music finished. Virgil clenched his hands into fists across the keys, looking at the floor with a sob. Hastily brushing away his own tears Jeff dashed into the room, quickly kneeling and bringing his son into a close embrace, holding him close as his body wracked with sobs.

“I miss her dad,” Virgil whispered, so quietly Jeff almost missed it. “I miss her so much.”

Jeff simply pulled him closer, rubbing his back soothingly. “I know son. I know. I miss her too.”

When Virgil calmed, Jeff loosened his grip and shifted backwards, placing both hands on his son’s shoulders. “She would be proud, to have watched you today. And she’s still here son. She’s right here.” Jeff placed a hand over Virgil’s heart, which he covered with both of his own.

Virgil sniffed. “You promise?”

Jeff leant forward to kiss his son on the cheek. “I promise.”


	4. Fish Out Of Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Four: Ocean.   
> Gordon swims for the first time following his accident and Virgil joins him for support.

Virgil whistled at the sight in front of him – an Olympic sized swimming pool, overhead lights glistening like tiny stars across the surface. Gordon stood right by the edge, glancing down into the water with an unreadable expression.

“You alright Gords?” Virgil asked, approaching the edge of the pool and glancing sidelong at his little brother. Gordon nodded.

“I’m alright.” Virgil could hear the uncertainty in his voice, no matter how well Gordon tried to hide it. But he let the matter drop for the moment, looking out across the water.

Gordon's accident had been so severe that his doctor's weren't sure he'd be able to stand again without support, let alone walk or swim. Of course, Gordon refused to believe that from day one. Virgil remembered the start of his physiotherapy, the expression of sheer pain and frustration on Gordon’s face as he clung so hard to the support rails that his knuckles turned white. Angry tears streamed down his face as he cursed under his breath, desperately struggling to stand – a task so easy, so taken for granted by most. He could hardly believe how difficult it was.

Still, Gordon persevered, moving from being able to stand alone to wobbling his way along the support track. Soon enough – much to the disbelief of his doctors – he was walking slowly down the hospital corridor, Jeff waiting for him at the end. Scott followed him carefully, far enough away that Gordon felt independent but close enough to help if he was having trouble.

Now here he stood, a little over nine months later, on the edge of something which had once been so familiar. Swimming had always been his release, a way of working through whatever he was feeling, but now he wasn’t so sure. Virgil knew this well enough – he could see it written plain as day on Gordon’s face.

“So.” Sitting on the edge of the pool, Virgil dipped his legs into the water. “How do you want to do this?”

“I dunno Virg,” Gordon murmured, joining his brother on the cool tiled floor. “It used to feel so easy and now… I’m not so sure. I don't know where to start.”

Virgil nudged him before slowly immersing himself into the water. Adjusting to its temperature (thankfully far warmer than he thought it’d be), he turned himself around and leant his forearms against the edge of the pool, looking up at his brother.

“Well, you won’t know until you try huh?”

Gordon took a deep breath and nodded, mirroring his brother’s actions. Once he was fully in the water he glanced down at himself as if in shock, watching as the movement of his hands made ripples in the water.

“Let’s keep to the shallow end,” Virgil suggested. “This space is easily wide enough to do laps.” As if the shallow end was shallow at all he thought, paddling to keep afloat as it was. Still, it was far easier to support Gordon at 6.5 feet depth than at almost 10.

Gordon nodded in agreement, relaxing his body to float along on his back, gently paddling away from Virgil.

For the first 15 minutes they simply played around, floating along carelessly and splashing each other with water. This settled Gordon, getting him used to the feeling of being back in the water after such a long time. Virgil grabbed two foam noodles from the edge and tossed one neatly to his brother, engaging in an instant war.

“Alright, alright!” he declared after a few minutes, swiftly dodging the vibrant orange noodle that swung towards his head. “You win! I surrender, I’m out!” He raised both hands in defeat, chuckling at Gordon as the younger man grinned triumphantly at him.

“Heh, you never could beat me at this.” Gordon stretched the float out underneath his arms, lying in such a way that it supported him as he drifted along the surface. “You wanna do some laps now?”

Virgil swam to one side of the pool, float tossed carelessly to one side. “Ready when you are. Try not to go all Olympian on me though. You know I tire out way faster than you do.”

Gordon snorted, throwing his float out from underneath him. “No promises Virg.” Smirking, he joined his older brother and the pair of them got ready, one hand gripping the edge behind them and both feet flat against the wall ready to propel themselves off.

“Ready… set… go!”

The pair set off, Gordon steaming ahead like Virgil knew he would. As much as he tried to match Gordon’s pace he simply couldn’t keep up – his younger brother was practically raised in the water, obsessed with it from the moment he’d taken his first swimming lesson. Years of vigorous training lay behind him, bundles of trophies and even an Olympic gold medal to his name – a testament to his incredible skills.

After what felt like at least an hour to Virgil, but in reality was something like 10 minutes, he paused for breath mid-lap. Gordon carried on, slicing through the water with ease. Virgil watched as he sped to end of the pool, landing his feet hard against the wall and pushing off to swim back the way he came. He came to a stop as his gaze landed on Virgil, still trying to catch his breath.

“You okay Virg?”

Virgil chuckled, giving his brother a thumbs up. “Not as good at this as you are Gords.”

Gordon tutted, although he smiled as well, swimming across to his brother at a slower pace.

“You can sit it out if you want. I’m fine.”

Virgil shook his head. “Nah. I said I’d do it with you and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Gordon smiled softly at his older brother, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “Softie.” He glanced out across the rest of the pool with a soft sigh.

“You know this feels just like coming home. I’ve never felt anything more natural in my life.”

Virgil smiled back at his brother. “Now who’s the softie?” That earnt him a splash of water to the face to which he retaliated, the pair of them soon descending into a full on splashing war. Thus the rest of their time in the pool was spent fooling around and laughing, laps long forgotten.


	5. Eight-Legged Intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Five: Heroes  
> Virgil faces an unwelcome guest. Virgil and Tin-Tin friendship. Warnings for, as you might have guessed, spider (because I figure if you're as arachnophobic as I am, it's worth warning!).

Virgil stood completely frozen in the doorway which connected his bedroom to his bathroom, staring in utter horror at a small space in the middle of the carpet.

There, wandering along peacefully as if it owned the place, was a spider.

One of the worst aspects of living on a tropical island was by far the manner of creatures which lived alongside them. Virgil would never forget Grandma’s ear piercing shriek as she left the villa to relax on the beach, only to come face to face with a very colourful tropical lizard. That particular incident was a much loved dinnertime story, much to her dismay, and Gordon often recounted it with additional theatrics and details, arms waving around all over the place as the drama intensified each time.

Virgil could handle lizards. He could handle the weird and wonderful butterflies that floated around. He could even handle some of the longer bodied creepy crawlies; those simply fascinated him. How something with so many legs managed to function would always remain an amusing mystery to him.

What Virgil could not handle, however, was spiders.

He watched as the wretched creature trundled along, now climbing up his desk. Virgil had half a mind to simply remove the towel from his waist and smack it but there was no way he wanted to move remotely close enough to it to be able to do that. What if it retaliated by jumping back and he lost it, inevitably only to find it again late at night or somewhere he really needed to get to? What if it scuttled away and wound up under – or worse, on top of – his bed? Good gracious, _what if it touched him?!_

Frowning deeply at this unwelcome intruder, Virgil practically tip toed to the door of his room, walking along the walls so as to keep as far a distance from himself and the spider as possible. It stopped mid-climb, almost as it surveying Virgil’s movements and anticipating what this strange anxious human would do next. Virgil almost fainted – now that he truly got to look at it, long legs and thick hairy body resting against the side of his desk, he could see how monstrous it truly was.

 _Yuck_.

He reached for the door, ready to dash to John’s room to beg his older brother for help. He would suck up the teasing from Gordon for years if he had to but there was absolutely no way he was getting rid of this _thing_ on his own.

A knock to the door caused him to jump violently, losing his grip on the towel as it pooled around his ankles.

“W-who is it?” He was sure he knew the answer to that, the knock being such a gentle one, and hastily he reached for his towel and tucked it around his waist, making sure he was appropriately covered.

“Virgil?” A soft voice called out from behind the door. “I have the new antibiotic your father wants you to take, and I brought some tea for you to try with it. Can I come in?”

“Uh y-yeah of course Tin, just a minute.”

He smoothed his hair back, double and triple checking the placement of the towel across his waist. His wardrobe was on the other side of his room, piles of spare clothes lying around on the floor – but that meant passing by the eight-legged terror and Virgil had no intention of doing that anytime soon. So, neatly tucked in towel would have to do for now. Besides, it wasn’t like Tin-Tin hadn’t seen him shirtless before – they spent enough time by the pool together to have passed that awkwardness long ago.

The door opened and there stood Tin-Tin, tray delicately balanced in her hands. She smiled sweetly at him, breezing past him to place it onto the desk. She gasped softly at the sight of the spider, it still being in the same stationary position as it was when it stopped to observe Virgil.

“Oh what a nasty little thing!”

Virgil watched in a mixture of amazement and absolute horror as Tin-Tin _picked it up by the legs_ and crossed the room, opening the balcony doors widely and throwing it far over the edge. She brushed her hands off, turning back to Virgil with a wide smile.

“It will have landed somewhere in the shrubbery I’m sure; some other creature will have at it before it ends up anywhere near here again.” Her warm expression turned to one of bemusement as she registered the shock on Virgil’s face, tilting her head slightly.

“Don’t tell me you were afraid of it?”

“W-what?! N-no, no don’t be silly of course not, I wasn’t afraid it just, well it just caught me by surprise is all and—”

Tin-Tin laughed, covering her mouth with a hand. “Oh Virgil. You silly thing.”

Making her way back through the room she smiled at him in a cheeky way, resting a hand against his shoulder as she looked up at him. Virgil felt himself grow warm under her touch, his cheeks dusting with pink – something that only made her smile grow wider.

“To think, one of International Rescue’s heroes is so afraid of something so small. Let’s hope there’s no spiders in the way during a future rescue,” she said playfully, patting his shoulder before leaving the room, the sweet scent of her perfume lingering behind her.

Virgil had never felt so embarrassed in all his life. But hey – at least the towel stayed on.


	6. I've Got Your Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day Six: Brothers  
> Virgil takes the fall for little Alan. Smol Tracys.

Jeff stood in front of his youngest, arms crossed. Young Alan hopped nervously from foot to foot, chewing on his bottom lip as he was utterly scrutinised by his father.

“Alan Tracy, I am not going to ask you again. I want to know what happened to Grandma’s vase, and I want the truth.”

“It was me.”

Alan spun around at the sudden noise as Jeff looked up, narrowing his eyes at Virgil. His middle son stepped in through the doorway and crossed the room, stopping in front of his father and staring at him almost in defiance.

“I did it. I accidentally knocked it off with my schoolbag.”

Alan gawped at his older brother in disbelief, staring up at him with wide eyes. Jeff frowned.

“And you thought it was acceptable to place it back on the table as if nobody would notice the damage?" Jeff asked, watching Virgil carefully. "Care to explain to me how you missed the chipped off pieces?”

Virgil shrugged, seemingly indifferent to the punishment he was almost definitely about to receive from his father. “Didn’t know it was broken.”

Jeff rubbed his forehead in irritation. Virgil stood his ground, rocking lightly back and forth on his feet as he waited for the inevitable hammer strike.

To his and Alan’s surprise, it didn’t come.

“Your room. Now.” Jeff looked sternly at Virgil, the boy momentarily stunned by his father's reaction. Still, he turned and made his way from the room, dashing up the stairs and closing the door to his bedroom with far less force than Jeff had expected. Now his attention returned to his youngest son, who still stared in shock at the space where Virgil had stood not a moment ago.

“I trust you understand the severity of this situation?”

Alan jumped, looking up at his father with wide frightened eyes.

“I—I, um, dad I—”

“You will speak to your brother about this and I want the truth – and an apology, to myself and to your grandmother – before dinnertime. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes dad.”

“Good.” Jeff pointed towards the doorway. “Your room.”

He watched as Alan stumbled away, thundering up the stairs towards his shared room with Gordon. Jeff pinched the bridge of his nose. What was he going to do with those boys of his?

“Don’t you think you were a little hard on him Jeff?” His mother stood in the doorway just behind him, connecting the spacious living room to the kitchen. She held a large bowl of dough in her arms, stirring it gently. “It’s just an ornament. I can easily replace it.”

“It’s the principle mother,” Jeff replied. She tutted.

“Well, at least you know they look out for each other hmm?”

\---

Upstairs, Alan paced his room. Gordon was at a friend’s house for a sleepover, a rare occasion which meant he had the entire space to himself. Rather than embracing this as he normally would, spreading every toy car he owned across the floor and dashing around with them vigorously, he instead continued to pace a single line from one end of the room to the other, chewing his lip anxiously.

Why would Virgil take the blame for something he hadn’t done? Virgil had lied and now it would be him who was disciplined, probably not allowed to play his piano beyond general practice lessons or grounded so he couldn’t see his friends outside of school. Alan stopped in his tracks, glancing nervously towards the door and wringing his hands together. He had to do something. He had to say _something_.

He bolted to the door, slamming it open with unnecessary force and running down the hallway, bumping into his oldest brother. Scott raised an eyebrow, stopping Alan in his tracks.

“Allie, what have I told you about not looking where you’re going?”

“Sorry Scotty.” With that Alan shrugged out of Scott’s grip, continuing on to Virgil’s room and knocking on the door. Scott raised an eyebrow, watching his youngest brother in surprise, but said nothing, only shaking his head as he walked the opposite way.

Alan could hear papers being rustled before heavy footsteps made their way to the door. When it opened Virgil glanced down at Alan in amusement before moving to one side, gesturing for the younger boy to come in. Alan made a beeline for the bed – Virgil’s bed was always comfy, covered in blankets and spare hoodies and far too many pillows for his own good. This irritated Grandma to no end and she often chastised Virgil for it but the teen paid no mind, simply throwing everything into the closet when she inspected his room only to throw it back out again as soon as she left.

“What’s up pipsqueak?” Virgil asked, shuffling across to his desk to place a stack of papers back into their folder. His latest project was a particularly difficult piece of music, something he’d been working on for a while now. Virgil could often be found sitting at the piano, frowning at his hands in disapproval as he willed them to move faster. If not that, then he was in his bedroom poring over the music sheets, hoping that the more he went over them, the easier it would become to play.

“You lied.”

Virgil froze, papers held in mid-air as he turned to face Alan.

“You – you knew it was me who broke the vase but you told dad it was you! Why Virgie?” Alan looked up at his older brother with genuine curiosity. “Why would you do that?”

Virgil smiled softly at the use of the childish nickname, something Alan still hadn’t dropped even though he was just shy of 10 now.

“Why does it matter?”

“B-because!” Alan stammered, standing on the bed. “Scotty wouldn’t do that – he tells me to never lie. Johnny too! It’s not fair to lie right? That’s what they would say.”

Virgil shrugged, clipping his music into the folder and placing it back onto the desk. “Well I’m not either of those two.”

“Of course, it’s not okay to lie most of the time,” he continued, gazing distractedly out of the window as it started to rain. “But we’re brothers right? So it’s okay to lie sometimes, for brothers.” He smiled back at Alan.

“I got your back kiddo. Dad can be kinda mean about this stuff but I don’t mind.”

Alan simply stared at his older brother for a moment, too awestruck to say anything. But then he bounded off the bed, all but charging at Virgil as he wrapped his arms around the older boy’s waist.

“Thanks Virgie. You’re a real hero.”

Virgil, looking bemused, placed a hand on Alan’s shoulder and used the other to ruffle his hair fondly.

“Anytime.”

After a minute or so Alan pulled back, looking up at Virgil in determination.

“But I think… I gotta tell dad the truth though. I don’t want him to be mad at you.”

“Yeah?” Virgil looked down at his baby brother, arms crossed. “You sure?”

Alan nodded his head vigorously. “I’m sure. I’m gonna do it right now.”

“You want me to go with you?”

“Nah.” Alan smiled up at Virgil. “It’s okay. I’ll just come back after, if that’s okay?”

“Sure.” Virgil ruffled Alan’s hair again, the younger boy pouting at the action as he then attempted to flatten it back out.

“’k. I’ll see you later then.” Alan turned and dashed back out of the room as quickly as he came in, leaving Virgil. He smiled, throwing himself onto the bed and listening to the sound of heavy rain lashing against the window.

A knock on the door alerted him to the arrival of Scott, who poked his head through the door without waiting for a response.

“Was real good of you to do that Virg.”

Virgil shrugged. “It was nothing. Besides, we gotta stick up for each other right?”

Scott smiled proudly at him. “Yes we do.”


	7. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Change  
> Virgil and his brothers stumble upon something unexpected as they clear their Kansas home, ready for the move to the island.

Putting the last suitcase in the boot of his car, Virgil stood back and admired his handiwork. He was hardly the neatest packer – that title belonged to John, who arranged everything so meticulously that even shifting the slightest thing out of place was immediately noticeable to the blonde.

Still, this wasn’t so bad. Virgil arranged some smaller boxes and bags around the suitcase, playing tetris with everything until it all fit snugly. Satisfied with the final arrangement he slammed the boot shut, locking the car before making his way back into the house, gravel crunching beneath his feet. It was a warm and stuffy day, distant clouds threatening rain later on – something Virgil and all of his brothers would welcome with open arms.

Gordon looked over from his perch on the coffee table, smiling broadly as Virgil came through the door and made an immediate beeline for the water bottle next to him. He handed it over and Virgil took it gratefully, drinking almost all of the water in one go.

“Look at it this way – at least you’re getting a good workout huh?” Gordon said, watching the way his older brother made quick work of the water before wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Yeah,” Virgil replied, crumping the plastic bottle in his hand and tossing it into the makeshift bin against the wall opposite them. “Could do with more of a breeze though.” He sat down on the table, Gordon budging up slightly to allow him more space, and brushed his fingers through his hair.

“If _someone_ wasn’t watching me like a hawk, I’d do more.” Gordon frowned, stretching his legs out in front of him. As if on cue, that particular someone walked out of the kitchen with three large pieces of wood in his arms, muscles straining with the weight as he carried them towards the front door.

“ _Someone_ doesn’t want you to wind up back in the hospital,” Scott retorted, moving one hand further back to better support what he was holding. He made quick work of carrying them outside and tossing them into the large orange skip in front of the garage, brushing his hands off. As he came back inside he looked at Gordon sternly. “You know the doctors told you not to over-exert yourself Gords. It’s not even been a month since you’ve been out.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gordon waved a hand dismissively at his oldest brother. “No heavy lifting, no running, no gym, I got it all the first hundred times. I’ll make sure not to breathe too hard while I’m at it.”

Virgil snorted at the sarcastic remark, looking sidelong at his brother in amusement. “And here I thought you liked being told what to do.”

Scott sighed and shook his head. “You’ll thank me later when you don’t have to spend another few months in the hospital.” He adjusted his shirt, pulling the collar away from his neck, and made his way back to the kitchen to remove more pieces of wood that had previously been the kitchen table.

Virgil stood up, stretching out his arms. “I’ve still gotta go through all the old boxes that were in the old playroom, you know the ones under the piano? Wanna come?”

“Beats sitting around doing nothing,” Gordon replied, following suit and standing. A pair of crutches leant against the wall behind him and he took them both under one arm, determined as always to get along without them as much as possible.

The playroom had been mostly emptied; the Tracy’s grand piano was already well on its way to the island and all the old bookshelves and cabinets had been dismantled and thrown into the skip yesterday by Scott, who had taken on most of the handiwork with his father. All that remained were various differently shaped boxes, filled with all manner of papers no doubt – old school awards, letters, postcards, brochures for different summer camps. Virgil didn’t expect to find anything particularly useful in any of the boxes but they needed filing through all the same.

He dragged an old stool through from next door – a spare bedroom that Grandma had used when their father had been away – and pointedly placed it next to Gordon, indicating that his younger brother should sit down. Kicking some of the boxes across to the stool he opted to sit cross-legged on the floor, opening the lid to box number one and peering inside.

“You would think Grandma would’ve thrown a ton of this out before,” Gordon remarked, eyebrow raised as he looked over the stacks of paper crammed inside. Virgil nodded in agreement, pulling out a sheet at the head of the pile.

They worked steadily through each box, Virgil handing half of its contents to Gordon so they shared the load. Most of what they found was put in rubbish bags, simply being old letters or junk that they hadn’t wanted to let go of as children. Some they kept; a few drawings, a stack of letters between John and an old penfriend, birthday cards from various childhood best friends or family members.

As they came to the last box, exterior ripped and crinkled with use, Virgil pulled the top off and gasped softly.

“What?” Gordon asked, craning his neck to get a look inside. “What is it Virg?”

“Mom…”

Virgil reached inside, pulling out a set of photographs of their late mother. Photographs of her with her own mother, with Jeff, with them as tiny children. Gordon took them when offered, drinking in all the details.

“What else is there?” he asked, placing the photographs carefully in his lap.

Virgil rifled through the contents. “Letters, between her and dad it looks like. A couple more photos, an old… journal?” He pulled out a small blue book, the cover faded with age, running his fingers along the spine.

“What you guys looking at?” came a voice from the doorway. Turning around Virgil saw Alan leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he looked on curiously.

“Just going through old stuff,” Virgil replied, placing the book back underneath an old pile of letters and taking the photographs from Gordon’s lap, extending his arm as he offered them to Alan. “We found some stuff of mom’s.”

“Mom?!”

Alan darted into the room, sitting next Virgil as he looked at the photos intently, smiling softly at the one of his mother with all the boys.

“You fellas all done in here?”

“What kind of timing is this?!” Gordon exclaimed, laughing as he looked up at his older brothers now entering the room. “We find the good stuff and _now_ everybody turns up?”

Scott opened his mouth to retort but stopped as soon as he caught a glimpse of what Alan was holding, kneeling down behind him and looking over his shoulder.

“Where’d you find these?”

“In here.” Virgil gestured towards the last box. “There’s a bunch of stuff in here between mom and dad, or stuff that’s just hers.”

“I wonder why it wasn’t one of the first things dad took,” John mused.

Virgil shrugged. “It’s not like he’d have left it. He’s just not really here I guess.”

The five sat in silence a moment, photographs passed around between them. A harsh knock against the front door brought them all back to reality.

“Boys?”

Scott stood and went out to greet their father, John following close behind. Virgil placed the photographs back in the old box and put the lid back on, scooping it up in his arms and placing it on top of the pile of things that were to come with them. He, Gordon and Alan then followed their older brothers, leaving the room to see their father, who greeted them with a warm smile.

“So, are we all done here?”

“Mostly. There’s still some things that need taking out from upstairs but everyone’s packed, right fellas?” Scott looked back at his brothers, who all nodded in agreement.

“Good, very good.” Jeff smiled proudly at his boys, eyes crinkled at the corners. “You make sure everything is brought down in the next hour or so and then we’ll find dinner someplace hm?”

“Yeah, sure thing dad.”

Almost immediately the five got back to work, Gordon and Alan wandering off to their old shared bedroom while John, Virgil and Scott removed the last pieces from their own rooms.

Virgil made sure the box of his mother’s things was top of the pile in his tetris-packed boot, safe from being bumped around or damaged. This shift to the island would be difficult, more difficult than any of them expected – the radical change in both atmosphere and career inevitably being something that would hit them hard during the first few weeks.

But he knew in spite of everything to come, the memories they took with them would sustain them through it all.


End file.
